"Sleepy" would be a generous description of Gilman, Vt., population 214, a village on the New Hampshire border that has neither a gas station nor a grocery. Yet on a recent Monday night, dozens of cars piled into a parking lot next to a nondescript building off the town highway.
The big draw? The Gilman Senior Center. It was bingo night, after all.
As 6 p.m. approached, the regulars crowded in — about 25 total. Friends greeted each other and claimed their favorite seats. Linda Cooke heated a pot of chili, which sold for $3 a bowl, plus fixings. She had also brought a homemade chocolate cake. Generous slices disappeared quickly.
Zane Cooke manned the register, where the arrivals purchased game packets. For $20, players compete in 16 games of bingo. Some buy additional bingo cards for $1 each to better their odds.
Terri Lynn Williams, a Republican state rep from nearby Granby who plays regularly, laid out her daubers, special circle-shaped markers designed for playing speedy games of bingo. In the back of the room, a boisterous crew of local schoolteachers broke out bags of chips and pretzels.
The youngest player was Crystal Lane, 34, who had joined her mother, Pearl Lane, for a night out.
"It's the highlight of my week," Crystal said, sipping on a Sprite. "There's nothing else to do around here."
Across Vermont, senior centers enable older Vermonters to receive care, meals, resources and social interaction. In places such as this remote corner of the Northeast Kingdom, with few public spaces, the centers often serve the entire community.
"There's a really strong connection between a robust senior center and a healthy community," said Angela Smith-Dieng, director of the Adult Services Division of the Vermont Department of Disabilities, Aging and Independent Living, or DAIL. "There's research showing that social connection and engagement leads to better health outcomes. If we can create places where people do that on a regular basis, the community is going to be healthier."
The centers' core mission remains to serve aging Vermonters. As the state's population gets grayer, they are becoming increasingly important.
According to DAIL, about 50 senior centers operate in Vermont. But not all are created equal, says Dan Noyes, executive director of the Vermont Association of Senior Centers and Meal Providers. In poorer towns, including many in the Northeast Kingdom, the nonprofit, volunteer-run organizations often struggle to raise money and draw volunteers. Funding basic services is a huge challenge.
In some more-populated areas, such as Woodstock, centers have deeper resources. The Thompson Center there has its own van and a building renovation in its future.
Some of the centers can rely on the energy of one key champion. Sharon Eaton, president of the Gilman Senior Center's board of directors, has been a steady advocate for the organization, which started in 1973. When its original building fell into disrepair a few years ago, she started serving needy seniors out of her own home.
"When it closed, I lost my mind," she said.
With the help of the Town of Lunenburg and volunteers, Eaton led the effort to purchase and renovate an old parsonage from the Roman Catholic Diocese of Burlington that was being used as a preschool, cobbling together grants, donations and a loan.
The new center opened its doors in spring 2023. It offers meals to more than 40 seniors four days a week, serves as a Meals on Wheels distribution site and hosts social events. Residents regularly book it for birthday parties and meetings for both old and young.
The center pinches pennies, though. Its budget, $145,000 per year, barely pays the salaries of its two staff members and covers the cost of food.
A thriving book club, which meets once a month, selects titles with the availability of free copies in mind.
"We're frugal," one participant joked, holding up this month's mystery book, which no one enjoyed very much.
Some of the seniors who dine there regularly might otherwise go hungry. A few months ago, the center added a food pantry in a back room.
Senior centers have played a crucial role in identifying aging Vermonters who are at risk and providing them with help before they harm themselves, Smith-Dieng said. Eaton recalled a handful of regulars whose mental capacities deteriorated before her eyes. She reached out to their family members about long-term care facilities.
Volunteers at the Gilman Senior Center look out for their neighbors, too. One of them recently distributed a fact sheet about Social Security scams to people who'd come in for a meal. Eaton said she has helped several people avoid falling prey to scammers — an ever-growing menace.
The center also combats a major threat to seniors' physical and mental health: loneliness.
"We've made a lot of wonderful friends coming here," said Mark Fulton, who plays bingo regularly along with his wife, Devon. The couple had only recently relocated to nearby Granby. Now, whenever they see a fellow player at the grocery store, they proclaim: "Bingo!"
They chatted cheerfully with friends last week as the game began.
The center's new bingo apparatus blows around balls emblazoned with bingo-square letters and numbers inside a transparent box and randomly selects them one by one for the caller.
"O, 75," said the caller, Gibb McLain, through a microphone. "O. Seven. Five."
Two large-screen TVs flashed "O 75." A flurry of dauber-wielding hands marked cards. Chatter died as players focused.
The snazzy equipment had lured Joy Emery and Annette Grover, newbies to the Gilman scene, from Lancaster, N.H., about 20 minutes away.
"They have the best food here," Grover said, taking a bite of the chocolate cake. "And the best people."
Players who win a regular game get $20. Variants, such as a race to make an "H" shape on the bingo board — pay $25.
The final game, "blackout," had a $200 jackpot for a player who had every square called. Because only a certain number of balls are picked each week, a winner is not guaranteed. The jackpot begins at $100, with $25 added per week until someone wins. The jackpot has reached close to $600. When that happens, word gets around Gilman and the hot spot gets hotter, drawing a bigger crowd.
Nancy McLain, 87, adjusted the plastic bracelets and rings she was wearing. Her great-granddaughters had made them for her as lucky charms, hoping she would win big.
"I've gotta win for the girls," she said. "But to be honest, I'm not here for the money." She winked.
"Bingo!" a player called out, holding up her sheet triumphantly. The room erupted in excitement, and someone demanded an inspection of her card. The teachers giggled in the corner. Linda stirred the pot of chili. No one was in any rush. In fact, there were still 15 games to go.